darrus (darrus) wrote,
darrus
darrus

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Coach OTP fic - Perhaps Love


LOVE IS WAR (3)

Author
: darrus
Fandom: German National team
Pairing: Klinsmann/Loew, Flick/Markus Loew
Rating: PG 
Language: English
Warning: RPS

Disclaimer: I still don't know people mentioned in this story and I still hope it isn't true. The plot is still only my fantasy

Summary: pick up the phone...

Author's notes, previous chapters and music here

Timeline for the series is here 


Love Is War (3)

 

He calls me in the middle of the night. I hear a barely audible melody of my phone that is lying somewhere near the front door, in the pocket of my jacket, and I have to go down there, because it may wake someone – and it’s night. I even wonder briefly who can call me at such an hour, because only insomniacs like me are awake at 3 a.m.

He’s not drunk – I expected him to be, but he’s not. He says ‘hello’ and I answer the same. He apologizes for being so late – I chuckle, looking at the clock, and assure him that it’s ok. He asks me where I am, and I have an urge to tell him where he may go, but answer in a very mild tone – I am at home and going to bed.

“With whom?” He sounds amused.

“Guess”, I answer, seriously wondering about the point of all this talk.

“I’m jealous”, and he laughs. Is he…

“As well you should be”, I yawn into the speaker, hoping that he’ll take the hint.

He laughs. His laughter is not pretty – too high-pitched to be easy on the ears.

“Is Jogi with you then?”

I start. I start at this, honestly, I’ve almost dropped the phone. That’s the one question I didn’t expect. If he’s looking for my brother – why all these advances and hints and whatnot?

“No, he’s not here. Why?”

“Ooooh, my bad. I though he’s finally taking it onto himself to teach you some of the things he knows so well”.

I would have hit him if he was here. And I doubt I would have hit him only once. What does he?!

“Goodnight, Hansi. Sleep well”.

“I will, Markus, dearest, I will”.

He hangs up first.

I think. Maybe it was me.

 

Next evening it’s raining outside. And it’s cold – this chilly feeling like it always is when there’s strong wind and rain at the same time.

He calls me just before dinner.

“Hi Markus”, and as I don’t answer right away, he adds in this unpleasant tone of voice, “dearest”.

“Hansi”, I acknowledge him briskly. I doubt that I should do even that.

“Fancy to go out on a date?”

Why am I not surprised?

“Have no need for dates as I have enough plans for tonight”.

“Oh, you do? But maybe you would like to hear what I’m going to offer?”

“No.”

No, I don’t want. I don’t want to hear anything.

“So, the first point in our plan will be…”

I hang up.

Yes, my mom told me that it’s impolite to do so. Yes, I know that it’s a sign of disrespect towards the person at the other end of the line.

That’s one of the reasons I hung up on him.

The other being that I don’t want to listen to this nonsense.

And I don’t want to listen to him even if he’s talking sense, too.

 

Next time it’s 10 p.m., and I’ve just went out to take a walk – the weather was too fine to sit inside.

I wish he would get a life too.

“Have you heard this one?” He is too cheerful for my liking. “How do you get an elephant up an oak tree?”
I’m so taken aback by it I actually think for a couple of seconds. Come up with every sort of weird scenario, including ladders and planes. No, really, how do you get an elephant up an oak tree? “Umm… How?”

“Sit it down on an acorn and wait 50 years.”

I laugh. He laughs too.

“Just wanted to share this with you”, he says.

I tense up momentarily, waiting for him to say something… something…

“Goodnight”, he says. I sigh a sigh of relief, unable to control myself.

Too early.

“Dearest”, he adds and laughs again before putting down the phone.

I want to break something. Someone’s neck, maybe. Certain someone’s neck.

I’m too aggressive these days.

 

And Jogi looks offended.

“I though you’ll want to visit us… And after all…” He trails down. He’s upset.

I hate to upset him.

“Hansi will be here, everyone will be here but ou – again”. He’s agitated now.

“I don’t want to see Flick.”

My brother turns to look straight at me.

“He’s one of my best friends”.

There is steel in his voice.

He’s always protective of his friends.

He doesn’t want me to speak badly of Flick, that much I’ve understood long ago.

Sorry, Jogi.

“But not mine”.

“Yes”. He bows his head, acknowledging my right to decide.

I’m glad he’s not going to hold it against me.

“But I still wish you joined us”.

“I can’t Jogi. It’s not excuses. I really have work to do”.

For once I’m glad that this really is the case.

I’m not making anything up.

Even if I wanted to spend the holiday with them – I wouldn’t have been able to.

I too can be lucky sometimes.

 

He calls me right before the working day is over.

“Wanna relax after work?” His tone is smug.

“I’m pretty relaxed as it is”.

“Judging by your voice you’re too tense. What do you say about… light massage, or…”

“No”, I cut him off midsentence. “Have a nice evening”.

“But Markus…”

Next day I change the number of the phone.

I get in trouble with my boss over it. Yes, I know that clients should always be able to reach me. He’s red in the face like lobster at the end of his tirade. He always yells, this time is no exception. He’s a good guy, but tends to overreact sometimes. It’s no problem.

I explain him about stalker.

He yells some more.

He has no other choice but to approve though.

Coming late to work is out of question for the next two weeks at least.

 

I have to take every call, even if it’s unknown number. It’s part of the work.

It takes him two days to find me.

“Haven’t heard from you for a very long time, Markus”, he says.

“Hope you won’t hear from me even longer now”, I resort to almost insulting tone. I know it’s useless. But at least I’ll feel better this way.

“I’ve missed your jokes”, I hear a smile in his voice.

“How did you get my number?” Did my brother give it to him, I wonder?
”Daniela”, he laughs outright now. “A good woman she is”.

I hang up the phone.

Next day he doesn’t call.

 

And the next.

 

And the next.

 

I have full two weeks of normality. Without hearing the voice I’ve come to hate already.

It feels like heaven.

 

His next call spoils me the perfect view of the sun setting right above the house.

Damn him.

“Just calling to tell you that Jogi’s staying over at my house tonight”, and then whispers conspiratorily, “Just don’t tell our good Daniela he’s too drunk to bring him home”.

“He’s with you?” Stupid question, I know.

“Oh no, no, Markus, don’t worry. No reason to be jealous really. He’s not in my taste”.

“You…”, I try to relax, it’s no good to react like this to every wind-up of his.

“Besides”, he continues, like he hasn’t noticed, “Even if I wanted – I’m not the one he’s sleeping with, you know…”

“Is this all?” My tone is dry.

“Sure, unless you’d like to know the name of your brother’s lover – or maybe you know already?”

“So that’s all”, and I’m not going to…

“Then sleep well, my dearest”.

 

I despise him.

 

“Dearest. Markus. I haven’t seen you for such a long time…”

“You’re disgusting.”

“But Markus!” He’ s genuinely stunned, it seems. “Why? Why do you say…” He sounds surprised. Surprised? He dares?

“I wish you would stop calling”.

“Markus…” Oh, this miserable tone. Hurt, innocent… “Markus, please”.

“What do you want from me, Hansi?”

“I just love talking with you. Is this so bad?”

“Definitely looks bad”, I can’t stop myself.

“Or are you just scared?”

I don’t answer.

“Haven’t your brother told you how good it can be? I thought you were close”.

I don’t answer.

“Ask him, Markus. Dearest. He can tell you so much about that…”

He laughs.

And laughs.

And laughs.

I turn off the phone.

 

21.05.2008

 

tbc

Tags: coach otp, fanfiction, football, klinsmann, loew, perhaps love, slash, soccer
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